


i'll show you my colors

by SilverMoonSky



Series: ML Oneshots [77]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMoonSky/pseuds/SilverMoonSky
Summary: Luka.His name is Luka.In an instant, Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes who exactly she’s been listening to this entire time.They tell her to stay away from him.They tell her he’s dangerous, they tell her he’s reckless, they tell her he’s a playboy and he’ll shatter anyone’s heart faster than a snake’s bite would poison you.But, as Marinette sits there, eyes wide open and her mouth gaping in awe, all she can think is that the music he just played is the best she’s ever heard.---Or, where Marinette discovers her neighbor is so much more than the rumors make him out to be.
Relationships: Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: ML Oneshots [77]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643566
Comments: 22
Kudos: 130





	i'll show you my colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiniNoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNoire/gifts).



> For Mini! This is a terribly late birthday present, haha, but better late than never, right? :P It's always a joy to work beside you as a mod, and you're an even more amazing friend! Thank you for always being your wonderful self. I love you very much <3
> 
> A huge thank you to [Pari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalMoonlight/pseuds/InfernalMoonlight), [Elli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnigmaticEllipsis), and [Fay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialTitania) for helping me brainstorm, and for supporting me as I wrote this!
> 
> This fic can alternatively be titled as "the five times Marinette talked to her neighbor through a wall (and the one time she didn't)", though that is a pretty weird title, so you get this lovely song lyric from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6bs8v5vLko) instead!
> 
> But anyways! Enough of my rambling, haha. I hope you all enjoy <3

Marinette slumps down on the couch, burying her face against her knees as she curls up with a sigh. It’s been a long day; she wants nothing more than to fall asleep and let her sorrows drift away as she dreams.

But she doesn’t have the time to do that. She still has commissions to finish, work deadlines to meet, an apartment to clean, and most of all. . . .

She needs to find a way to move on from Adrien.

“I’m so lame,” she mutters, rocking back and forth on her couch. “This is what I get for developing a crush on my boss.”

Because really, it’s stupid. Marinette should’ve known from the moment they met—she’s only been working at Gabriel for a few months, but it’s been obvious from the start that there’s no way he could ever be hers. It’s her fault for getting her own hopes up every time Adrien smiled in her direction, complimented her designs, or when he’d offered her an umbrella that one day she’d forgotten hers.

He’s always been nice—especially after the rocky start they’d had on her first day—but that’s  _ it. _ His intentions have been nothing more.

In hindsight, Marinette should’ve figured that out ages ago.

But she’s been too busy fawning over him, and now, apparently he’s had a girlfriend this entire time and she’s never even realized.

“You’re so,  _ so _ lame,” she mumbles, slamming her head against her knees. “So, so, so—”

Her phone suddenly begins to ring. Marinette snaps out of her thoughts, her eyes landing on the bag laying several meters away. She vaguely wonders who must be calling her—not many people would call her at this time—before recalling having tried to call Alya earlier. She begrudgingly gets up and grabs the phone from the bag.

“I don’t know why you called, but make this fast, girl,” Alya says as soon as she picks up. “Nino and I are going on a date in about five minutes.”

_ “Alya,” _ Marinette moans dramatically, “he has a _ girlfriend.” _

“Who, Adrien?”

Marinette falls back onto the couch. “Who else would I be talking about?”

“Who’s the girlfriend?”

“Kagami Tsurugi! You know, that famous fencer girl? She’s so beautiful and pretty and perfect and of  _ course _ Adrien loves her, and I didn’t even  _ realize _ he was dating her, and—” 

“Marinette,” Alya sighs, “stop. I know where you’re going with this and trust me, anyone would be blind if they didn’t see how special you are.” She pauses. “So you say Adrien has a girlfriend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have they been dating?”

“I. . . . don’t know?” Marinette admits. “But they’ve definitely been in love with each other since before I even met Adrien. You see? I never even had a chance!”

“Oh, girl, you didn’t get your hopes up, did you?”

She winces at her friend’s—quite accurate—accusation. “Well, I. . . .”

“Alya!” Marinette hears Nino call on the other end of the phone. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

“Coming!” Alya says back, before saying more softly, “I’m really sorry, Marinette, but I have to go. We’ll pick up this conversation later, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” Marinette exclaims, not wanting Alya to think she was disappointed they couldn’t talk longer. “Enjoy your date! This is just a silly crush, anyways. I’ll get over it.”

“If you need anything, just call me and I promise I’ll answer as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

“Talk to you later, girl!”

And with that, the line goes silent.

Marinette lets out a groan and flings her phone to the other side of the couch.

_ So much for that. _

Alya’s right, she knows that. Marinette’s an idealist, and she’s always gotten her hopes up even when she knows it’s impossible. Which is why now, when the truth stares her in her face—one she can no longer ignore—she feels hopeless. 

Adrien Agreste has a girlfriend, and she’ll never have a chance with him.

So Marinette sits there, the same thoughts running through her head over and over again. She has so much to do tonight, yet she finds she doesn’t want to do any of it. All she wants to do is fall asleep and wake up to discover all of this has been a dream.

She groans.  _ You’re probably dramatising this more than necessary. _

Knowing herself, Marinette figures her thought is true. But she can’t help but sigh at the thought that this is what always happens—no matter who she falls for, no matter what she does, it all ends up being the same.

She’s an  _ adult. _ She  _ should _ have everything together.

Yet she always ends up being unable to have a chance with anyone.

“You’re so hopeless,” Marinette grumbles. “This is all your fault.”

_ It’s your fault for getting your hopes up again. _

_ It’s your fault for reading into every interaction. _

_ It’s your fault for thinking you’d ever have a chance. _

The thoughts circle as a faint sound begins to fill the air. Marinette doesn’t even notice at first; she’s too engrossed in her own mind, and yet, as it continues to get louder, she finds she isn’t able to ignore it. She looks up.

_ Music. _

She doesn’t know where it’s coming from. The strings of a guitar seem to resonate through the air, creating a soft melody that pulls her in. Marinette finds her feet moving of their own accord as she walks towards the window. Is it possible the music is coming from there?

She peers outside.

_ No. _

She turns towards the television. Perhaps she left it on earlier?

_ Nope. _

But where else could it. . . .?

And suddenly, she realizes.

Marinette makes her way into her bedroom. The music instantly seems to get louder; and, as she walks towards the edge of the room and places her palm on the wall, she can clearly hear the vibrations. She breathes in a sigh and closes her eyes.

_ The neighbors. _

She didn’t even realize they  _ play _ instruments. Granted, she’s only been here for a few weeks and doesn’t know them very well, but surely she should have been able to hear them playing an instrument beforehand, right?

And they play so  _ well,  _ too. Every single chord, every single note resonates with her. She’s able to  _ feel _ the emotions it gives her, and she can  _ connect  _ with the song in a way she’s never really been able to do before. The melody is entrancing and mysterious all at once. It’s silly of her to think so, but yet. . . .

It almost feels like this was  _ made _ for her.

Marinette lets herself relax for the first time that day. Her knees buckle and she slides down to sit on the floor, holding a hand against her heart with her back against the wall.

(Little does she know someone sits right on the other side in the exact same position; little does she realize who exactly that person is.)

Marinette breathes with the music, letting the melody and harmony take her on a journey unlike one she’s ever experienced. She surrenders her emotions entirely; she feels only what the music lets her feel, thinks about only what the music lets her think about. She feels herself  _ immersed  _ in it, she feels like being  _ vulnerable _ for once in her life.

And unlike the other times, Marinette finds, she doesn’t have the instant urge to pull away.

It’s beautiful.

She wants  _ more. _

But the music abruptly stops.

Marinette lets out a gasp as her eyes snap open in shock, reality washing over her.

It takes her a minute to remember where she is, and another to realize the reason the music stopped playing is because of what seems to be a phone ringing on the other side. She lets out a disappointed sigh, left craving for more.

For the first time, Marinette hears a masculine voice in her neighbor’s apartment.

“Hello?”

“Luka!” a voice exclaims. “I need to talk to you.”

Marinette frowns. The voice on the phone seems familiar, but she can’t place it.

“About what?” 

“I need to talk to you about. . . .”

He seems to get up and start moving away from where Marinette sits against the wall. The voices get fainter and fainter until she can no longer hear anything.

_ Luka. _

His name is Luka.

In an instant, Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes  _ who  _ exactly she’s been listening to this entire time.

They tell her to stay away from him.

They tell her he’s dangerous, they tell her he’s reckless, they tell her he’s a playboy and he’ll shatter anyone’s heart faster than a snake’s bite would poison you.

But, as Marinette sits there, eyes wide open and her mouth gaping in awe, all she can think is that the music he just played is the best she’s ever heard.

* * *

It’s why she finds herself unable to stay away.

Her neighbors in the apartment building have told her tales about him even before she’d fully moved in. They’ve told her about all the dangerous things he’s said and done—apparently there are many, like did you know his mother is a pirate, and his father left his family because his son has lashed out at him more than a few times?

The stories could be rumors. She knows that. Each one has imprinted an impression of him in her mind, and although Marinette  _ knows _ she should know better than to believe the old lady’s gossip circling around the apartment. . . . how much of that could they be making up? Isn’t it better to stay safe than sorry in the end?

That’s what she  _ tells _ herself.

Yet every night, she finds herself sitting against that wall in her bedroom. Every night, she sits there, hoping that maybe he’ll play his guitar, and maybe she’ll be able to hear it.

It’s entranced her. It’s all she thinks about when she gets home from work; the music is lovely, and after that first day, she continuously tries her best to get home early in order to be able to catch a listen. 

She tells herself it’s better to err on the side of caution, but so long as all she does is listen, nothing will happen.

(Right?)

The days pass, and subconsciously, Marinette makes out a rough schedule in her head. It seems Luka always plays his guitar in the late evening, which coincidentally lines up with when she gets off of work. It’s why most of the time—unless she gets home late—she’s able to catch him playing.

The music helps her. She finds herself looking forward to working on commissions and housework as she listens; it also takes her mind off of other things, like her hopelessly empty love life. She doesn’t know how she never discovered this earlier, but all she knows is that now, she could ever go back.

It’s a different night entirely when she hears something else from him.

Marinette hasn’t heard his voice many times. It seems that, like her, he also lives alone, so the only times she’s ever heard him talk is when he’s on the phone.

But his  _ singing. . . . _

His voice is beautiful and breathtaking all at once. The first time she hears it is several weeks after she leans on the wall; just like when he plays his music, she’s breathless. She can’t pull away. There’s so much  _ emotion _ poured into his voice, and, as he sings, she finds herself fully immersed in it.

Only it’s different. It’s different because instead of making  _ her _ feel vulnerable. . . .

She feels  _ him. _

She feels  _ him _ and  _ his _ emotions and  _ his _ rawness through the highs and lows of the song. And, as she finds herself leaning against the wall, she  _ knows _ it feels different because for the first time since she started listening, she feels like she can connect with the person on the other side.

Marinette smiles. Her eyes close as she listens.

Tunes and melodies change, twisting and turning throughout time, until she hears him singing a song she recognizes. Her eyes snap open in surprise, and, as he sings, she finds herself humming the tune. Soon enough, she’s singing the words, too.

Something about this moment is beautiful in a way she can’t describe. Just letting go of her inhibitions, all of her worries, and  _ knowing _ that on the other side the person is doing the same as they sing their hearts out. . . .

It’s magical.

Marinette doesn’t hear when he stops singing; she doesn’t realize when the song is over. She keeps singing. All she knows is that this is lovely, and she wants to immerse herself fully, wanting to  _ feel _ all of the emotions that come with the joy of singing.

And, when she finally stops and grins, all she can think is— 

“Wow,” she breathes, “that was amazing.”

“It was. You sing very well.”

“Thanks, you do t—”

Marinette suddenly gasps and jumps to her feet, spinning around to face the wall. She clamps a hand over her mouth in shock.

_ Oh, no. _

Did she really—did he really just— 

“I know you’re there.” Luka softly laughs. “I can hear you. You have a very pretty voice.”

She lets out a muffled squeak.

_ Stay away stay away stay away you have to stay— _

“Away!” she exclaims. “I-I—a-away now—” 

“What?”

Marinette feels panic rising within her as she slowly backs away from the wall.

_ This can’t be happening. _

“GoodbyetimetogoseeyoulaterIdon’tknowhatyou’retalkingaboutbye!”

With that, she scrambles out of the room, far, far away from the wall.

And even further away from him.

* * *

But avoiding Luka is harder than she anticipates.

Everything in Marinette screams at her to avoid him and that wall connecting to his apartment. She’s not inclined to repeat the disaster of the encounter they’d had earlier.

_ The rumors could be true, you know. _

Yet she can’t help herself.

Standing in her bedroom after a long day at work, Marinette thinks about it. She can’t imagine  _ not _ listening to his music anymore. Hearing it is now a staple part of her evening; it’s hard for her to ignore the urge to listen, not when her bedroom wall is right there and he’s right there and his music travels through the walls, finding her ears, and she’s pulled in and can’t pull away—

“Do you really believe the rumors?”

Marinette squeaks in surprise when she hears his voice, stumbling backward and falling on top of her bed. Her cheeks burn, and she’s suddenly glad he can’t see her. She clamps a hand over her mouth.

_ This is why you’re supposed to stay away. _

It’s been hardly a week since the last time she’d ended up talking to him through the wall. She’s  _ told _ herself to avoid him, and for the past few days, it’s been working.

Today, though, it seems things just aren’t in her favor.

_ Hopefully he didn’t hear— _

“I know you’re there,” Luka says in amusement. “I just heard you bump into something.”

_ Oh, no. _

Marinette stifles a groan. So much for trying not to be noticed.

_ Do you believe the rumors? _

The rumors she’s heard run through her head.

_ Well. _

What else is she even supposed to think? Who is she supposed to believe?

“You don’t have to talk to me.” Luka strums his guitar, letting tasteful chords ring through the air. “I was just wondering. You wouldn’t be the first to believe them.”

“W-Well,” Marinette stutters, attempting to find her voice, “b-better safe than sorry, right?”

“I suppose you have a point there.”

Silence stretches between them.

Marinette clamps a hand over her mouth once again and lets out a muffled noise.

She’s actually  _ talking _ to him! Even though she’s specifically told herself  _ not _ to! What if something happens? What if the rumors are true? What if she ends up falling in love with him and he breaks her heart and the same things will happen all over again and everything will be hopeless, hopeless,  _ hopeless— _

“You know, I do find it a bit surprising that you choose to listen to me, though,” Luka says, “every day.”

“What!” she exclaims. “I-I do not! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

` “You know, this?” Luka stops what he’s playing, and suddenly, the silence feels a lot heavier than before.

Marinette feels herself blush again. “W-Well, I—” 

“Relax,” he says with a laugh, “I was just teasing. I don’t mind you listening.”

“O-Oh. That’s good.”

_ You’re so lame. _

Luka resumes playing, and Marinette flips over to bury her burning face against the bed. She can’t believe this. The first time she actually has a conversation with him, all she can do is stutter?

The music continues to fill the air. Just like any other day, she finds herself listening along, letting the music carry her thoughts and emotions.

Only today, this is different, because for the first time, she  _ knows _ he knows she’s listening. It’s different because she doesn’t have to hide the fact she’s here. It’s different because—

_ You wouldn’t be the first to believe the rumors. _

Shame washes over her.

“The rumors,” Marinette says suddenly, “that you mentioned.”

“Yeah?”

“You know.” She waves her hands wildly—not that he can see, but she pays no attention to that—as she suddenly feels the need to justify the reason she stayed away. “What else am I supposed to believe? And I just, well, I don’t know, I don’t even know what you look like! I’ve never seen you, ever! You could be anyone behind this wall and I wouldn’t even know. You could be an old man, or a murderer, or—”

“Are you telling me you’ve never seen me?” he asks, amused.

“I-I have not!” she sputters. “And you’ve never seen me, either!”

“I’ve seen you.”

She pauses. “What?”

“We’re neighbors, Marinette,” Luka says. “How could I have not seen you?”

“Oh.” Her cheeks burn. “I guess—wait.” She jumps from her bed in surprise and spins towards the wall. “How did you know my name?”

He chuckles. “You’re not the only one who can hear through the walls.”

The. . . . walls.

And suddenly, she recalls all of the conversations she’s had, all of the phone calls, and all of the things she’s said to Alya and other people.

“What have you heard?” she asks cautiously.

“Not much. Most of the time your conversations are faint, but I’ve heard your name more than a few times. Aren’t your parents the ones who own the Dupain-Cheng bakery?”

“Yeah! They are.”

“Their pastries are  _ so _ good.”

“Oh, yeah, I practically grew up eating those pastries,” Marinette says with a nervous laugh.

“That’s so cool,” Luka says in what seems to be excitement. “Growing up, my mother wasn’t the best at baking, so whenever she tried something, it always burned.”

_ Wait. _

“So your mother isn’t a pirate?”

“Where did you get that from?” he asks curiously.

_ The rumors. _

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, ashamed at her outburst, though she’s not sure why exactly she’s apologizing. After all, the rumors  _ could _ be true. Not all rumors turn out to be false.

And yet. . . .

“Hey, it’s okay,” Luka says softly. “Trust me.”

Marinette bites her lip. “Are you sure?”

After all, she wouldn’t take kindly to her neighbors spreading rumors about her. She can’t imagine how he actually feels.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he says nonchalantly. “I find it funny more than anything else.”

“Really?”

_ That’s a lie. _

Marinette’s not sure why she doesn’t believe him; she can’t place it. There’s something about his tone that just seems. . . . _off._  
“Yeah, old lady’s gossip isn’t exactly something to take seriously. I suppose rumors will happen when your mother acts like a pirate, though.”

“A pir— _ wait.” _ Her mouth gapes open. “Is your mother  _ actually _ a pirate?”

Luka laughs. “No, but as a kid, we lived on the houseboat, and my sister and I were often thought to be pirates because of the way our mother acts.”

But, well, if he wasn’t going to talk about it, then she supposes it means it’s okay.

“I had a friend who had a mother like that,” Marinette says. “Her mother’s pretty fun to talk to.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t happen to mean Juleka Couffaine, do you?”

Marinette jumps in surprise. “How did you—”

“She’s my sister.” 

_ Oh. _

“So you’re Luka Couffaine! I’ve heard a lot about you!”

And suddenly, everything clicks.

“Have you?” Luka suddenly switches the song he’s playing; in an instant, the atmosphere feels just a bit friendlier. A bit more relaxing. “What have you heard?”

“Well,” Marinette says, leaning back on her bed, “Juleka has said more than a few times what an annoying older brother she has.”

“Really?” he asks in surprise.

“No.” She smiles. “Juleka has nothing but good things to say.”

This changes everything entirely.

As they continue to talk more and more, Marinette finds herself relaxing. She  _ wants _ to be alert, she really does. . . . but the fact that he’s  _ Juleka’s  _ brother—the brother her friend has so highly praised—changes so,  _ so _ much.

His words, his music, and his presence makes her bring her guard down entirely. She feels like she can open up. She feels herself wanting to trust him.

Perhaps she’s stupid. Perhaps she’s being naive. She’s still wary, but maybe, just maybe. . . .

_ The rumors aren’t so true, after all. _

* * *

Against her own inhibitions, Marinette finds herself talking to him more.

It’s so surprisingly  _ easy. _ She can tell Luka anything, almost, and he’ll listen. It’s so much more fun to get work done as she listens to his voice and his music; just  _ knowing _ he’s there, sitting on the other side of the wall, makes her feel better. It isn’t long before they exchange numbers and text each other throughout the day, too.

They get to know each other. They both smile and wave to say hi as they pass each other in their building, text each other pictures, but the walls are still their main source of communication. It’s what is most comfortable and convenient for them.

It’s stupid, really, that they’ve never  _ really  _ met up in person despite being neighbors for months at this point. In part, it’s due to their schedules. Marinette discovers Luka mostly works night shifts while she works during the day, and their schedules overlap for about an hour or so—right as she gets home from work—before he has to go.

It’s still fun, though. That one hour quickly becomes the highlight of her days.

The other part—the part Marinette refuses to admit—is that this?  _ This _ is special to her. She likes spending time with Luka as she sits in her bedroom, knowing he’s doing the same on the other side. She likes listening to him play, she enjoys when they talk about anything and everything. She loves when he plays his music, and in return, when she shows him her own form of expression through designing clothes. It’s  _ their _ thing; she shares this with no one else.

“You know,” Marinette says one day, “I like this.”

“Like what?”

“This.” She gestures around her from where she’s sitting on her bed; Luka can’t see her, but she’s sure he can figure out her implications.

_ This. _

“Yeah,” Luka says softly, “I like this, too.”

He’s always there for her. She can turn to him no matter what happens. He supports her, makes her laugh, makes her smile. . . .

Makes her  _ happy. _

Yet at the same time, she subtly avoids whenever he brings up meeting up in person, always giving out one excuse or the other. He never questions it; he simply nods, says okay, and conversation moves on as if nothing had happened.

Because the paranoid part of her brain asks, what if something happens? What if they lose this bond they have?

_ Why does it matter? _ is the question she asks herself in return.

It isn’t long before Marinette begins to find herself grappling with other types of feelings. As she and Luka continue to get to know each other, she slowly remembers the crushes and relationships—which have been rather childish, she realizes now—from the past.

_This_ is different. It feels different from the partners and crushes from the past, the ones that have only ever let her _imagine_ the prospect of a forever lasting relationship. It feels different in a way she’s never experienced before.

Maybe it’s because this time, she isn’t admiring someone from afar. Perhaps it’s because she isn’t putting Luka on a pedestal. It could even be due to the fact that she’s trying not to dream about all the possibilities; instead, she’s trying her hardest to focus on the present moment.

T _ his _ feels different, because perhaps for once, this could actually be  _ real. _

And it’s something she doesn’t want to let go.

Weeks pass.

“I’ll be okay.”

Dynamics change as they slowly learn about each other and grow.

“I don’t think you are,” Marinette says softly.

As she finds, Luka  _ isn’t _ what the rumors make him out to be. He isn’t  _ just _ the guy who plays a guitar and listens to her rant, he isn’t  _ just _ someone for her to lean on.

“I’ll be fine,” Luka says quietly on the other side of the wall. Marinette has to strain her ears to catch his words.

He isn’t always as strong and perfect as he wants others to believe.

Marinette bites her lip and looks down at her hands. She very rarely sees this side of him. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

He’s sensitive at times, too. And for her, that’s okay.

“It’s nothing really, just. . . . family stuff.”

Because he’s become so much more than that.

“Do you want to, uh, talk about it?”

Luka lets out a sigh. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to,” Marinette says, “we can just talk about other things. Or something. We could go through one of your playlists like you promised.”

It’s silent for a second before he lets out a soft laugh. “How would you feel if you finally found out your long lost father is someone you’ve known all along?”

_ What? _

Marinette frowns. “Well, I would feel upset, I guess? And shocked?”

“What about disappointment?”

“That too.” She turns towards the wall. “Luka? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says in a tone that clearly signifies he’s not. “I found out who my father is earlier today.”

“Oh.”

“He’s. . . . someone you know, too.”

“Is he?” Dozens of faces flicker through Marinette’s mind. “Who?”

There’s silence.

“Y-You don’t have to tell me!” she exclaims hastily, realizing this is technically none of her business. “I was just, uh, curious, but you don’t have to—”

“Jagged Stone.”

There’s thinly laced venom in Luka’s voice as he says the name.

_ Jagged Stone. _

“Jagged—” Marinette breaks off and gasps. “You mean—”

“He’s my father.”

_ Oh. _

She knows who Jagged Stone is.

Marinette suddenly recalls her previous meetings with Jagged Stone. She’s been extremely lucky to have worked by the famous singer’s side before; to her, he’s never been anything but admirable, and now, she can see the similarities between him and Luka. Their love for music. The passion they both showcase when they do what they love.

But if Luka, someone who Marinette rarely ever sees mad, is saying this with contempt. . . .

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” If she was on the other side of the wall, she would see Luka’s fists clench at his sides. “I’ve always admired Jagged. He’s been an inspiration, but I just. . . .” he takes in a shaky breath. “I’ve tried  _ so _ hard to support my mother and sister, spent my free time taking on extra side jobs instead of studying, and he—he’s just been—”

“Pursuing his dream,” Marinette says quietly.

“Which isn’t a  _ bad _ thing,” Luka says, though he’s clearly frustrated, “but I just—I wish. . . .”

_ He didn’t leave us. _

Marinette can hear the words as clear as day. 

“You’re allowed to feel upset about it.”

Luka’s silent on the other side, as if he can’t believe that himself.  
“I can’t imagine how you feel,” she whispers. “It must be hard, knowing your father’s near all along, but he didn’t bother to do a single thing to support your family.”

“Yeah.”

She bites her lip, hesitating for the slightest second before barreling on. “But you know, Juleka has told me a lot of things. When we were in school, she talked a lot about you. About how her brother was always kind and tried his best to support their family. And. . . . I-I don’t know,” Marinette stutters, “I guess what I really want to say is that you’ve been a great person, father in your life or not. You’ve grown into someone Juleka—or well, even _I—_ can be proud of. N-Not that we’re close enough to be proud of! Or no, you know, you to be proud of me—n-no, me to be proud of y—” 

She stops her rambling and promptly buries her face into her hands. A fierce blush spreads across her cheeks.

_ Who are you to say you’re proud of him? _

She suddenly feels shame wash over her as she remembers something else. Marinette has heard a lot of the rumors; she’s heard the awful things the neighbors say about Luka, accusations that have made her want to stay away.

But the rumors never told her about a boy just trying his best to support his family. They never said anything about someone who’s finally trying to pursue his  _ own _ dream, someone who is sweet and kind and trustworthy and someone who is—

_ Someone who  _ you _ care about. _

Because Luka has come to mean a lot to her. In the time she’s come to get to know him, each of the rumors have fallen, bit by bit. She finds herself jumping to his defense whenever a neighbor makes an offhand comment; she winces each time someone says something new.

Luka says he doesn’t mind; he says he finds the rumors funny.

But she sees the way the rumors have affected him. Even if he tells her otherwise, the words  _ do _ have an impact, and Marinette’s ashamed she ever even thought to believe them in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

“What are you apologizing for?” there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

“W-Well, I-I just. . . .”

“Thank you, Marinette,” Luka says sincerely. She can almost hear the smile in his voice. “That means a lot to hear.”

She looks up from her hands, turning towards the wall. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you. It’s. . . . easy to talk to you, you know?” Luka murmurs. “I can’t really talk to anyone else this way, but with you. . . .”

“Yeah,” Marinette says, a smile gracing her lips, “I feel the same way, too.”

They talk for a little while longer, all the while Marinette mulls over the thoughts running through her head. It isn’t long before Luka has to go.

“I have to go get ready for work now,” Luka says as he gets up. “It was nice talking with you, Marinette. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course,” Marinette says back.

_ I’ll always listen. _

She’ll listen because she cares, because she wants to get closer with him, because she wants him to know that she’ll always have his back, because she wants to prove to him that the stories surrounding him don’t define him.

He’s  _ more _ than what the rumors make him out to be.

_ I’ll always listen. _

Marinette doesn’t say the words out loud. Instead, as he finally leaves, she clutches her heart with a sigh, unable to make out the emotion that has gathered within her.

* * *

When Marinette finally figures it out, she’s left wondering why she didn’t realize earlier.

Her emotions suddenly make sense one day as she lays in bed at night, trying to sleep. Faces flicker across her mind; faces from her past relationships, the faces of those she’s tried to love in the past.

_ Nathaniel. _

_ Chloe. _

_ Adrien. _

And then there’s Luka.

There’s the Luka everyone else tells her they see. The one who’s dangerous, the one who is said to be someone no one should mess with, the person who will hurt you if you ever try to hurt him.

But then Marinette sees  _ her _ Luka. The one who’s strong, the one who plays guitar and sings for her, the one who cares so,  _ so _ much, the person who gives his all and never fails to support the people he loves.

She sees him in her dreams, reaching out to her.

When he takes her hand, when he pulls her closer, she follows.

She wants  _ him _ more than anything.

And, as Luka smiles, gently brushing her hair from her face, reaching in to press his lips against hers, she doesn’t pull away. She closes her eyes and leans in and squeezes her hand and just as their lips are about to press against each other’s as they melt into each other’s embraces—

It hits her.

Her eyes suddenly spring open and she stares at the dark ceiling of her bedroom.

_ Oh. _

In retrospect, it’s been obvious the entire time. Whenever Alya’s rolled her eyes affectionately as she’s rambled, whenever she thinks certain thoughts, whenever she begins to envision futures and fantasies as she dreams and dreams and dreams—

_ She should’ve known. _

But the question is whether or not she wants to do something about it.

“You know,” Luka says one day, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

They’re sitting in their usual spots. Marinette looks up in surprise, feeling herself blush as she remembers what she’d just been thinking about. She wonders how she’s never noticed the way her heart quickens before at his voice.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about meeting up?”

Marinette freezes. “M-Meeting up? Like. . . .”

“Meeting up for coffee or something.”

_ He’s never been this direct before. _

She bites her lip nervously, knowing very well she can’t avoid this this time. “So you mean, like. . . . outside.”

Luka laughs. “You don’t really expect us to talk through a wall for the rest of our lives, do you?”

_ Rest of our lives. _

Marinette swallows at the implications of those words—not that Luka  _ felt _ that way, of course, but what if. . . .

He  _ could _ feel that way, she thinks as her mind screams at her to not get her hopes up. It could very well be a possibility.

_ Maybe. _

“It is weird we haven’t formally met up before,” she admits, though she knows very well why they haven’t yet. Their schedules don’t mesh well, for one, and the other reason. . . .

Well. The other reason is  _ her. _

_ What do you think about meeting up? _

Marinette feels herself blush just at the thought. She’s thought about this more times than she can count, and yet. . . .

_ What are you so afraid of? _

She looks down at her palms. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t know.

It’s because when they finally meet, there’s a chance this could shatter. That what they’ve built up now would change—for the better or worst, she has no idea, but Marinette’s never been much of an optimist.  _ This _ could become different.  _ This _ could potentially never be a thing again.

It scares her, in some ways, that this one decision could have such an impact on their relationship.

“You okay, Marinette?”

She looks up, turning towards the wall. “Y-Yeah, fine.”

“Your tune says otherwise.” She hears shuffling as he goes to fetch his guitar.

“Really?”

Luka strums a couple of notes on his guitar, and a shudder goes through her at the sound of the chord. “You sound nervous.”

Marinette fiddles with her fingers. “I guess maybe I am.”

“Do you. . . . do you want to talk about it?”

She recalls all the thoughts and emotions she feels when she thinks about this. She looks back at the memories she’s made from the time that she’s gotten to know him; Marinette can’t deny that they’ve been some of the best memories she’s ever had. Even if it’s only been a few months, Luka  _ knows _ her very well. She’s always willing to open up to him. It’s scary, yes—talking about your doubts, about your insecurities, all of that—and it’s worrisome.

But she’s never had that problem with Luka.

And, if she wants to be even more honest with herself, the fact that this is  _ Luka,  _ one of the people she’s come to care about the most, makes a difference.

She doesn’t want to  _ not _ be honest with him.

“I guess I’m just worried,” Marinette admits, letting out a relieved sigh. “It’s irrational but, well, I’m. . . . worried. Worried that this could change and I don’t  _ want _ it to change, but—”

“Change what, exactly?” Luka asks. “Change the relationship we have with each other now, or change the way that people see you?”

_ Change the way that people see you? _

Marinette pauses, unable to detect the emotion in his tone. “What?”

“Sorry,” he says quietly. The music suddenly stops. “I guess what I mean is. . . . are you worried about what will happen with us? Or are you worried about how people will  _ see _ us if we’re out together? If. . . . if that even makes sense.”

_ What does he— _

_ Oh. _

“No,” Marinette breathes, “that makes sense.”

The rumors.

The insecurities.

All of the doubts he has that they haven’t talked about.

_ Yet. _

“No,” she says, shaking her head, “no. That’s not it at all.”

Luka’s silent on the other side. She uses the opportunity to continue.

“I’m so sorry I let you believe I felt that way.” Marinette stands up from where she’s sitting on her bed and walks over to the wall. She places a hand on it. “Luka, you’re  _ more _ than what people say about you.”

“Am I really?” he asks softly, getting a glimpse of his sensitive side she rarely sees. “What makes you say that?”

“They don’t know you the way those close to you know you,” she says fiercely. “They don’t know you the way  _ I _ know you. And I could care less about what they think about you, let alone what they think about  _ me _ for hanging out with  _ you.” _

If Marinette could see him, she’d see Luka close his eyes for the briefest second, as if unable to believe her words, before opening them again and turning to face the wall. She hears him get to his feet, and she feels a gentle thud as his hand rests against the wall, too, mirroring her.

“Do you really mean that?”

_ Yes. _

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I mean it.”

“Why?” he whispers. “What made you change your mind?”

The question should really be what  _ didn’t _ make her change her mind.

Her thoughts and memories and the conversations they’ve had throughout the past few months run through her mind. All Marinette can think about now is how  _ lucky _ she is to have gotten to know him in this way. How lucky it is they just happened to become neighbors.

What would have happened if she  _ didn’t _ come home early that day? Would anything have changed? Would she still be hopelessly moaning over her nonexistent love life?

Whatever it may be, one thing’s for sure: Luka wouldn’t be in her life the way he is now.

And, in this moment, Marinette’s never wanted anything more than for Luka to stay by her side.

“Because I’ve. . . .” she trails off, collecting her thoughts.

_ Because you’ve come to mean so much to me. _

_ Because I can’t imagine this without you. _

The last thought, the thought she hasn’t been ready to voice for the longest time, finally comes to mind.

And it feels silly to not say it now.

_ Because I— _

“Because I love you.”

* * *

It’s impulsive.

Her decisions are entirely impulsive at this point and she doesn’t even care.

Marinette breaks away from where she’s standing against the wall right after hearing the moment Luka gasps on the other side. She finds herself running out of her bedroom, heading towards the door of her apartment. She flings it open, rushes outside, and immediately finds the door to his.

_ Because I love you. _

She’s done with all the insecurities telling her not to do this. She’s done with the hesitation.

_ Because I love you. _

She rings his doorbell and waits. She’s not even sure what she’s doing at this point; desperation crawls against her skin and she waits and waits and waits, hoping and hoping that she’s done the right thing and she hasn’t just messed everything up—

_ Because I love you. _

A door creaks.

Marinette looks up.

_ Because I love you. _

Her breath catches in her throat as her eyes meet his. He stares at her, as if unable to believe this is actually happening, and her eyes roam across his face. Taking in and committing to memory his hair, his eyes, his lips, painting a picture in her mind.

Marinette doesn’t even notice the moment when she reaches out to throw her arms around his neck. Doesn’t even realize when he pulls her closer and crashes his lips against hers.

_ Because I love you. _

They’ve told her to stay away from him.

They’ve told her he’s dangerous, they’ve told her he’s reckless, they’ve told her he’s a playboy and he’ll shatter anyone’s heart faster than a snake’s bite would poison you.

But to her?

He’s just Luka.

Luka, Luka Luka.

_ Because I love you. _

All too soon they pull away to catch a breath. They rest their foreheads against each other’s. Marinette’s heart flutters with emotions she’s struggled to identify when she's been around Luka for a while, but now. . . .

_ I love you. _

“Hi,” he breathes, gazing at her fondly.

“Hi,” she whispers back, a smile gracing her lips.

_ Because I love you. _

He’s all she wants. He’s all she needs, and she could care less about what everyone else thinks.

_ Because I love you. _

And finally, Luka knows.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! It's been about a year since I've started posting on AO3, and I am absolutely floored by the amount of support I've gotten. Old and new readers alike, thank you so much for reading. It really means the world to me <3
> 
> If you're interested, join the [Miraculous Fanworks Discord Server](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks)! It’s a lovely community filled with even lovelier people <3


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